Part of the “Thoughts Aloud” mini-series created jointly by the “Sofia Brotherhood” and the German foundation Renovabis, within the project “Contemporary Ukrainian Orthodoxy: Breaking Myths for Reconciliation and Societal Consolidation.” Statements do not necessarily represent the official view of the Sofia Brotherhood.
Yuliia Lokteva, parishioner of St. Catherine’s Church in Priorka, OCU (Kyiv)
I come from a rare parish where a three-year catechism course is part of church life. In a sense, our community members could be called “victims” of catechesis. Eventually, you realize: catechesis does not solve church problems—it merely formulates them correctly, at best. Because when those three years come to an end, there are not fewer questions, but more.
One such question arises from the feeling that the Church does not hear the modern person. It’s as if she covers her ears like a small child when the adults are quarreling. And so, the question is: what does the Church need in order to truly hear the modern person—and respond?
I would identify several aspects.
The Church cannot hear because she speaks too loudly—using an archaic language. Her narratives naturally speak to a religious-mythological layer of consciousness, to the worldview in which she was historically formed. The modern world, however, speaks the language of scientific thinking, which began taking shape during the Enlightenment—over four hundred years ago. To reconcile these two worlds, the Church—meaning each of us—must become a translator, a bridge not of enmity, but of encounter and a dialogue of love.
In my view, this issue remains unresolved in Ukraine. And it lies at the root of many church crises. Chief among them: the fact that many modern people bypass the Church—not as a place to encounter Christ, but as a relic of medieval superstition. The solution lies in recognizing that people are coming to the Church not from a Christian world, but from a secular one. And in that world, Christian values require not mechanical application, but creative reinterpretation—attuned to the dynamics and culture of an informational and technological society.
Such reinterpretation may call for radical changes within the Church itself. But that is the least of what we should fear. For when a living organism ceases to change, it is a sign of death. Change is a sign of growth and life.
We should remember that the Enlightenment was preceded by Christian movements of enlightenment. The Enlightenment is not a demon—it is a lost child of the Church.
Many people are leaving the Church; church marriages are falling apart just as often and painfully as secular ones. The answer lies in our willingness to recognize the secular, worldly element within ourselves, within the Church. Not to reject it in disgust, but to make it a point of contact and dialogue with the world that the Church—as the Body of Christ—is called to serve. Not to condemn the moral and spiritual searching of modernity, but to accompany it in love.
Another feature of today’s world is the unprecedented level of education among “ordinary” people. And the Church must rise to this challenge—by rediscovering within itself the gift of discipleship. Not of teaching, but of learning. For we have only one Teacher: “But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have one Teacher, and you are all brothers” (Matthew 23:8).
Catechesis is not a few conversations before baptism, nor a system designed to “produce” correct parishioners. It is a continuous process in which every member of the Church must tirelessly cultivate within themselves the archetype of the disciple.
Semper homo bonus tiro est—“A good person is always a student,” wrote the Roman poet Martial, echoed centuries later by Ivan Franko. The eternal student (semper tiro)—that is what both priest and layperson must become in this new age. They learn from the one Teacher, acknowledging Him as the source of all knowledge—and thus can speak not the language of hierarchy or fear-driven control, but as equals.
The enlightenment of the soul by God’s truth is never a completed act for the Christian. It may begin—but it never ends. It only deepens, through ever-widening hermeneutic circles of self-discovery and divine revelation. Catechesis, in this sense, is merely a tool. Often, a first impulse. And sometimes—an icon that teaches how to learn and how to love.
Only when we grow together—in love, in relationship, in spiritual knowledge, and in the culture of faith—do we live a life with God. How beautiful it would be if we could apply the Gospel words to the whole Body of Christ, the Church:
“And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man” (Luke 2:52).
For wherever wisdom and love are sought, there is no room for propaganda, confessional hostility, or despair.